Hank Hill's Humorous Happenstance: Strickland Crusaders!
by Loodlelood
Summary: Join our hero Hank Hill as he sets out from his home town of Arlen to recover a stolen arrow, and to teach Dio what it means to be a parent. Hank will travel the world dispensing propane and justice to those in need, but will the burden of the atrocities he must witness along the way taint his pure spirit? Will the machinations of Dio be enough to stop Hank? Hot damn if I know.
1. Prologue

Hank Hill's Humorous Happenstance: Strickland Crusaders!

Prologue.

"Now gosh dangit I'll tell ya what, them Dio's rascals sure are gettin' out'o hand I'll tell ya." Hank Hill exclaimed angrily whilst standing near his compatriots and enjoying his all American beer.

The spectacle which he had been observing was one that filled him with disgust, and he found he could stomach this insolence no longer. The warm summer winds and beating texan sun ensured the day was hot enough as is. This heat was most evident in that even the smallest of flames could now produce greatly visible heat heat waves, this and his observation of smoke rising from distance allowed him to deduce the existence of a nearby barbecue.

A non propane barbeque.

Upon bringing himself to investigate the source of what could be a most heinous violation of neighborly conduct, he bore witness to a testament to the sorry state of humankind.

"John Redcorn! The hell's you doing cooking with charcoal?"

"I am sorry Mr. Hill, but that rascal Giorno Giovanna has absconded with both my propane, and a sacred ceremonial arrow. Please my friends, you must recover that which has been stolen from me."

"Now you listen here, I'm goin' find that Giorno and take back that arrow. And you know what? I think I'll be findin that Giorno's father, teach him a lesson on parenting I'll tell ya."

Hank hill looked back to the horizon, and beheld a bald eagle gliding majestically through the freedom scented American skies. He could not help but feel a burning desire for justice, and this rage boiled forth from somewhere deep within the recesses of his very being. He felt, as a surge from his very soul, the rage of one who had borne the terrible visage of the evil that lurked within the hearts of man.

"How can anyone just mosey on up and steal someone's propane? Leaving someone to cook… to cook with…"

Hank could not easily accept that such evil lurked within the United States of America, yet he knew in his heart that such was the case. But it needn't be so. Hank could fix this. Hank could bear the weight of this world, if it ensured he could cure it. Hank would bear the mantle of saviour, of hero, and of crusader.

"John Redcorn, stand back." Hank warned his neighbor.

Through all the hardships of Hank's all American family man life had instilled in him a passion for justice, and this desire for the betterment of mankind awakened something within him. Pointing forwards with his right hand, covering his face with his left. Fingers spread to allow visibility on his part, he leaned backwards and from his very being a spectral figure, a cross between a human and an exotic propane tank, and immediately in a flash of light the charcoal display had been transformed into a functioning and fully stocked propane grill.

"H-hank! Y-you have done it! My barbeque is saved, thank you my friend!"

"This is what it means to be a true neighbor. Remember my teachings John Redcorn."

From somewhere beyond the hedges a voice called out in a challenging tone.

"So Hank, it would appear that you're ready, but will your performance stand as testament to this truth?"

Hank knew this voice well, and indeed his suspicions were proved correct when his opponent leapt backwards thirty feet into the air. With a flourish of masculine grace, Hank's foe threw both his arms behind his back. As he began to descend he slammed both forwards pointing towards Hank and materialized the same form of construct for himself.

"POCKETO SANDO!"

"H'what!?"

Perfectly executing a quadruple backflip Hank expertly dodged the flurry of razor sand which had closed in upon his prior position, and rushed forth to clash with his foe. Slamming their fist's into one anothers, they were both propelled backwards. The hand of the being Dale Gribble had summoned had torn slightly, and Dale's hand bleed accordingly.

"Well, well, well. It looks like you're ready Hank."

"Dammit Dale! Quit with yer nonsense and explain yourself!"

"I am here to help you Hank. We all are. We've all been wronged by Dio, albeit indirectly in the case of Giorno related occurrences, but that is besides the point! We have assembled here to join forces, and to bring forth the justice America deserves! That being is a manifestation of you fighting spirit Hank. It is your stand!"

"If this path of violence is that which is required to restore peace, then gladly will I walk it. I will embrace it. My stand."

"PROPANE NIGHTMARE!"


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter one.

The group fled from their hometown of Arlen. Dale, Boomhauer, Bill, and of course Hank. Riding down the Highway on their Harley-Davidson Motorcycles, the Strickland Crusaders set out to save the American lifestyle. The setting sun seemed to lend credence to the gravity of their choice. As the sun set on their old lives, they realized they may never return to their old lives. Their sun had set indeed.

Riding for hours, they finally came upon a strange roadblock. The obstacle that lie in their path was a group of five men in color coded spandex. The two groups eyed each other, alone in the dark illuminated only by the motorcycles headlights. A chill wind blew forth, and heralded naught but death. A silent understanding was reached by all present, and they prepared for the battle which was sure to follow. Such is the path of the warrior.

"Honourable men of Arlen, our lord Dio has sent us, the Power Grillers, to stop you!" Proclaimed to man in red.

"Gosh dangit, this Dio fellow has corrupted you with charcoal based grilling!" Hank shouted, trying to pierce the vampiric curse imposed upon them by the shadow of Dio.

Adopting a "v" formation, the Power Grillers illuminated the ground with the sheer light of their fighting spirit. Though wrong they might be, they still fought for that which they believed right. Hank respected their spirit, and resolved to give them an honourable end. A ring of flame, a single mile in diameter, erupted to denote the arena in which they were to battle.

Rocketing forward, the one adorned in red attacked with flying kick. Hank blocked his valiant assault with a cross guard, his muscle rippling underneath his clothing. With a ferocious roar Hank drove his arms forward, sending the crimson clad fighter back. Though as he flew he joined hands with two of his fellows, and with all his might and spiraling momentum, launched the two towards Hank. Neither had hit their mark however, as Boomhauer and Bill had stepped into their path.

"Heyyohankimmatellyalistennowyahgoankickhisassyagotit?" Boomhauer asked of his fellow.

"Now you just wait here fellas, because I am going to finish this fight." Hank promised to his friends as he dashed past to re-engage in glorious American combat.

Speeding forth to meet his foe, Hank tore his shirt asunder, revealing his glistening pectoral muscles. The light of the arena's flaming boundaries reflected off his well oiled and finely tuned muscle, weakening the night creature with his gloriously incandescent life force and vigor. Focusing the unparalleled love of all the women and children in the universe for him into his fist, he crashed downwards with all the might of our universe's collective hopes and dreams. Crashing against the skull of his spandex clad opponent, Hank was thankful he could end his suffering quickly.

Turning, he chanced to witness his companions dealing the final blow to their opponents. These foes had not proved all that great of a challenge, though their presence reminded the Strickland Crusaders of the importance of their mission. If such patriotic heroes could fall under the thrall of Dio, then indeed his evil posed a threat to all of America. Hank would stand it no longer. This evil would be purged, and peace restored. The rising sun turned the corpses of their foes to ash, and Hank reflected on the possibility of post mortem redemption, and of honouring the dead.

Were the final thoughts of one corrupted and controlled by another their final will? Would it be respectful to show one last display of defiance on their behalf, since they could could not do such on their own? Of course. Hank Hill knew that these proud men would look onwards from the bridge of passing and know that they would be avenged. Utilising the hidden power of his stand, Hank turned their disintegrating bodies into propain.

"They are a part of our Earth's atmosphere now. They are the wind." Hank mourned, Looking towards the setting sun and realizing that this journey was not an end, but a beginning.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter two.

"Tell me Bill, you see something wrong with this picture?"

There was indeed something wrong with this picture. The air hung heavy with a sense of foreboding, and the sky itself seemed a pallid tan colour. The skies above were clear, yet some odd pollutant had stained the sky in earthy hues. The sun stood still in the stained sky, swollen and discoloured. A great crimson eye, peering down on all that had the audacity to venture out of their homes on this accursed day. Ashen flavors danced along the tongues of the riders, and they knew what had brought about these ill omens.

"Fire."

Hours of riding having taken its tole on the Crusaders, they wearily approached the patches of scorched earth. The rolling hills of ash and soot, they soon noted, had formed from and around the scorched ruins of a once prosperous town. Hank began to shovel away a small mound of ash, and found a small bone. It seemed to be a femur, though he supposed it mattered not which bone it was. It all meant one thing. Bill called out, having noticed how desolate this location seemed, and announced this land was too spooky.

It was upon hearing this that hank became aware of a sharp movement taking place beneath the ashes. It seemed as though a swift funneling, unnatural in its efficiency, as despite its size it seemed to flow undetected with the curves of the hills. Hank tensed in anticipation of an oncoming attack, and grew confused when none came. This was a new development. Hank was unsure of how to act, as he had never face an enemy that relied on subterfuge and stealth. Hank realized then that he was the only one aware of the threat and rushed towards his compatriots, only to find a horrifying sight.

"Bill what happened to you?"

"They stole them Hank! They stole my _bones!_ "

Hank stood shocked by the news, for who could have foreseen the theft of a skeleton? The flattened bill began to tearfully bid his farewells when Hank assured him he would retrieve his skeleton. Boomhauer stayed to defend his friend, whilst Hank and Dale split up to look for clues. Passing by the bone drained corpse of a great dane, Hank began to wonder what form of ability allowed for the thievery of entire skeletal structures. Surely this must be the work of an enemy stand, but Hank was sure not to rule out any other possibilities.

There was little to say of his surroundings, as it seemed the entirety of the settlement had received the same scorching punishement. A cold wind blew despite the prior events of the day, and the world was blanketed in scarlet hues. Hank saw that even in the wake of devastation, an odd beauty may be found. The sad and melancholic beauty of a fading flame, once magnificent, now naught but embers.

"Now gosh dang it! Here I am pondering on the intrinsic beauty of what now lies lost to the eons, when I should be focused on findin' Bills bones."

Hank continued to wander amidst the charred woodwork when he came upon a strange cavern leading underground. Seeing no other landmarks of note, Hank proceeded downwards. The tunnel continued to resemble the constituent components of burnt wood and ash. He walked onwards and soon took note of the ash beneath his feet giving way to intricately carved tilework. Each tile seemed to contain countless miniscule channels flowing into and out of one another. They seemed to be carved of Dioptase, an emerald coloured mineral comprised in part by hydrated copper silicate. Hank admired the fine craftsmanship, and then realized this shit was cray cray.

The tunnel soon led Hank to grand circular chamber. The tiles distorted and melded into one another, flowing into the center of the room. The ground twisting upwards to form a small podium upon which an ivory skull laden with gold inlays sat in silence. Hank marveled at how the crimson torches distorted the emerald hues of the tiling, and reflected off of the skulls engraving. Hank wondered if this artifact was connected to the theft of Bills skeleton, and decided to punch it. Preparing his fist for a mighty collision, Hank realized whatever had been following him took no measures to stop this.

Hank shifted to the side a stream of skeletal arms rushed forth, barely missing his manly biceps.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three.

Boomhauer sat near his deflated friend, and sighed in anticipation of the bullshit to come. Not one of his compatriots could understand him, and so his pleas for peace fell on deaf ears. Even so, he could not abandon his friends when they needed him most. He was relieved, however, to have this one moment of respite, and welcomed the change of pace. He knew it would not last, for he realized some insanity was soon to come crashing down from the accursed heavens. Such was his lot in life, but he was happy for even this brief moment of calm. He rested his hand upon the flattened shoulder of his incapacitated friend, and reassured him that his strength, as well as his skeleton, would be returned to him soon. Boomhauer looked up towards the ashen skies, and marveled at how, even after such tragedy, the world still held such beauty. It was a world worth defending, to be sure, and he truly believed that his friends could save it. His confidence in himself was less so, as he that little of his own combat abilities. He placed his faith in those he cared for, and fought with all that he had in their defence. Fate had not proven kind to him these past few years, and he sought to ensure the horrors of those days long past were never to repeat. It was as he began to reflect on his sordid past that Bill raised him a simple question.

"Am I a burden to you all?"

Boomhauer was shocked at the sudden severity of Bill's words. Never had he expected such talk from one of his teammates. He looked down towards his partner and asked himself that same question. The question meant for Bill, yet applicable also to Boomhauer, was one born of fear. Perhaps they feared failing those they cared for. Perhaps they dreaded being left behind.

"ImmatellyouthisrightnowyouveneverheldanyonebackbutyourselfwiththattalkofyoursyouneedtorealizeyouarebetterthanyoubelieveandIhavefaithinanythingyouwilleverattemptsolistenwellboyeveryoneherecaresmoreaboutyouthanyoucanpossiblyeverknow."

His speech was a flood of indescribable sound to the dim witted Bill, and as such most of the message was lost. Even so he understood the emotion behind them, perhaps more so than Boomhauer himself. Bill saw the care Boomhauer's pure heart held within, but also the insecurities that only another familiar with the affliction could detect. Bill smiled warmly at his old friend, and resolved to push himself as far as he needed to for his he was able to stand, he would do so proudly. If fear was the stigma of a coward, and if facing it was the trial of a true friend, then Bill would not mind being either.

Boomhauer saw the fire in Bill's eyes, and marveled at the inner strength only he could friends would fight to their last, and so would he. The two longtime friends silently assured one another of their conviction and awaited the next stretch of their journey without qualm. However, it was after this soul searching that a great movement could be felt deep beneath the crust of the earth. A great crash was heard in the distance, and Boomhauer stood to face this new development. He would stand here in defence of the vulnerable Bill, should the battle move here, and was thankful for the brief moment of rest he was able to enjoy. Boomhauer looked towards the distance, and was greeted by the sight of Hank punch a building sized amalgamation of countless skeletons.

Quite a distance from his friends Hank found himself continuously bitch slapping a mass of fused skeletons. The beast let loose a screech similar to the wailings of thousand dieing car engines, and charged headfirst into Hank. The beast connected, and drove downwards, imbedding Hank's body into the ground. The weight of the impact sent forth a great shock wave, forming a great crater in the crust of the earth. Faultlines broke along miles of land, causing earthquakes all along the countryside. The beast stood upon its hind legs, and raised five malformed arms to bring them down again and again onto Hank.

Dale appeared behind the beast, and from his stand rocketed forth countless projectile sandstone shards. They embedded themselves within the external shell of the skeletal monstrosity, and the sharp pain diverted the attention towards himself. The creature slung one of its lumbering arms towards Dale, who was saved only by the pull of gravity forcing him to fall out the arms path. Landing serenely on the floor before, Dale sprinted towards the center of the crater. Reaching the center he picked up Hank's unconscious form, and sprinted towards a nearby ruin. Hiding Hank among the rubble, and beelined away to drag the danger far from his friend.

The beast gave chase to Dale, and as it began to gain upon him Dale stopped dead in his tracks. The forward momentum of the creature carried it far past where it attempted to stop, and found itself standing directly above Dale. Our hero shot a single sharpened boulder upwards, and tore the creature in two. One side fell to the floor motionless, though the other seemed to continue to house it's consciousness. It writhed in agony, however it was alive nonetheless. Dale was drained of power, and could fight no longer. The blast had propelled the creature towards Boomhauer, and attacked him in an attempt to absorb his skeleton. Boomhauer braced himself for the attack, yet it never came. He realized that the attack had been taken by another. Bill.

Standing proud, Bill defied the need for a functioning skeleton. He had materialized his own stand in place of it, and with his own fists he had blocked the great strike.

"Impossible! How could one such as you find the strength to transcend the need for _bones!_ "

"I will break whatever limits are needed. _You will fall here!_ "

Bill grasped the beast's claw, and rushed backwards. He dragged the beast off towards the ruins of a destroyed house, and stood atop it. He looked into the creatures serpentine eyes, and arched himself backwards. Lifting from the ground, the monster began to screech pleas for mercy, yet all Bill could hear were the cries of the thousand lives this beast had taken. His heart burned at the thought of this injustice, and he slammed the great evil into the ground behind him, the shock wave expanding miles outwards.

Bill Walked towards his friends once more, and Boomhauer nearly shed a tear from the sheer pride he felt for his friend. Hank had awoken, and produced an unusual carving that he had been guarding. The team inspected it and could gather nothing of its origin or proper usage. Hank spoke of his encounter with the beast, and the conversation he had had with it before his friends had joined the battle.

"So this beast was an invasive species? From there?"

"Yes Dale, this breed originates from-"

"So we're off?"

"Yes. To Florida."

" _God damnit…"_


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four.

"So this is modern airport security?"

"Yes, Dale, it is."

The exasperation found behind these words was apparent enough, being nearly as blatant as the source of the group's dismay. The Strickland Crusaders had fought through many trials and tribulations, yet never before had such an issue as this presented itself to them. The group was often fond of settling their issues with a quick display of martial might, though now they could see how such a solution would prove problematic in certain situations. The situation in question was line after line of booths, terminals, and a myriad of scanners. The swaths of civilians flowed slowly, reminiscent of a deluge of molasses. Such a slow pace, entirely inadequate for the purpose of a speedy dash towards one's destiny.

And so the crusaders waited and waited, their minds adrift with thoughts of days to come. Some thought of those whom they wished to return to, others wished for more adventures to spice up their dreary lives. Even so, those who thought as much still held to the possibility of an enjoyable life after this grand journey. After all, was peace not the end goal of such an excursion? With the hours of daylight fading fast, Hank at last arrived at the first scanner. The entirety of the process, as Hank unfortunately found to be the case, was absolutely monotonous. Wait in line for five minutes, take one step. Repeat this process until you reach any form of staff interaction, and then continue in the same fashion towards the next. The entire endeavor was nearly as boring and fruitless as making love to Peggy.

Even so, Hank carried on, and in the end his patience was rewarded. Rewarded with more waiting. Something felt off about the whole experience, as Hank could have sworn that this was the same counter he had stood before three hours ago. He had a clear recollection of the horrendous wait he had endured before, and yet the security personnel he faced now seemed to be the same as the prior. The oddity of the situation was far too great to have had been a natural occurrence, and Hank's mind instantly raced to the possibility of an enemy stand. Hank experienced a cold sweat of nervousness, for what foe could possess the audacity to attack in such a populated area. Hank resolved himself to wait for any sort of confirmation to his suspicions, and became aware of a terrifying fact that eluded him for some time now. Hank's compatriots were nowhere to be seen, having seemingly been consumed by the endless torrent of would-be passengers. Hank was alone amidst this ocean of life.

"Bill? Boomhauer? Dale?"

It was no use, for no reply was heard. Hank was duly shocked, however, to find that no one replied in any manner to his actions. He cautiously stepped out of line, and observed that the tide of people did not shift to accommodate the change. The entirely apathetic crowd continued to take small steps every few minutes whilst remaining in the same formation. Hank knew for certain that this was the work of an enemy Stand, but he could not ascertain the effects that were in place at the moment. Hank set to work analyzing the details of the world around him, and found the oddities that lent credence to his belief in regards to the situation. He noticed that the windows he had never taken notice of before, though already reflective, had become as though mirrors. All space outside the Airport had been rendered into a light blue haze, leaving no details to obscure the reflections of what was already inside. The world outside the Airport had vanished. Everything inside was continuing as normal, unresponsive to Hank's actions. He was the only thing that was aware of any oddities, and the others who possessed stands were nowhere to be found. These were the facts that made themselves readily apparent, and he continued to walk about the premises whilst investigating.

Hank continuously sought anyone who seemed able to perceive his presence while scanning the environment, but he found nothing that could grant any more understanding of the situation that he found himself in. Sighing in frustration, Hank sat down at a nearby desk only to knock down an antiquated lamp. Hank was quick in his reflexes, and was able to catch to appliance before in incurred any damage. His hands on his temples, Hank wondered how he escape from this mysterious trap. He looked back on the events of the days prior, and prepared to shatter a wall in frustration. Before doing so, however, he took notice of something exceedingly bizarre. There was no reflection of his stand in the mirrors. Hank was unsure of whether this meant that his stand was a vampire, or that the manifestations of metaphysical concepts are incapable of interacting with the world on fundamental levels that their abilities don't specialize in. Growing suspicious, Hank took the ivory skull out of his infinitely-deep-because-of-plot pocket and pointed it in the direction of the mirrors.

Although nothing happened, something happened, and that something was Hank seeing nothing. No great reaction occurred to unravel this realm, but Hank felt power in the skull as it warmed his hands with a faint light. Yet the skull had no reflection, and Hank realized that this illusory mirror could not reflect or manifest supernatural powers. Inspecting the reflection more closely, Hank focused on the desk behind him. Everything on the desk was represented in the reflection, all but one object that is. That innocuous lamp was nowhere to be found.

Turning to face the lamp, Hank felt the warmth of the skull increase as it was pointed towards the desk. Hank cursed the deepness of his pockets, whose infinite void dispersed the heat of its prior warning. Summoning his stand with the rage of a middle-aged white man stuck in an airport, Hank threw the skull with the speed of a bullet. The skull impacted the lamp like I impacted the dance floor, and a single scream was heard from the endless sea of "civilians."

A great "NO!" echoed throughout the halls, as one figure amongst many shattered as though porcelain. The room around Hank began to fall apart, and the endless void rushed in from the broken windows. Soon everything was a white void, and soon after that even the empty void dispersed. Hank thought that this would have been the end of his troubles, but he saw nothing akin to his prior environment. All he saw was a cavernous expanse, filled with flame, brimstone, and assorted meat products. He was in hell.

"Hank!" a familiar voice called out.

"Dale!" Hank answered. "What the fuck?"

"The airport was naught but an illusion! We fucked up at the intersection, and took a left turn INTO HELL."

Hank looked out into the endless expanse of demonic corruption. He saw the battle unfolding around him, as hoards of demonic forces assailed his closest friends. Dale was leaping from stone to stone, firing off his pocket sand and eliminating foes at range. He was particularly focusing on a group of wizards, who threw their own flaming projectiles at the hero. Bill was engaged in hand to hand combat with dozens of truck-sized demons, each similar in appearance to minotaurs. Boomhauer was out-rocking a group of demonic skeleton guitarists, using some sort of chainsaw katana as a guitar pick. Their epic struggle produced the Doom theme with perfect accuracy, and Hank knew what must be done.

After picking up the ivory skull he had thrown, Hank went to work.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five.

Roars of pain echoed throughout the caverns of the underworld as Hank broke the demonic legions over his knee. The fists of his stand were implacable in their speed and strength, and they tore effortlessly through the demonic forces that dared to challenge him. His punches shattered skulls, and his glare scarred souls. There was little the demons could do to stop him, and so they settled with distracting him whilst they finished off his friends. At least that is what they had attempted.

Amidst the seas of blood and flame his neighbors fought, slaying demon after demon. Dale, frail in body, had long since mastered the art of dodging and glided effortlessly through the air, evading the flaming projectiles of the demons whilst raining down sandy vengeance of his own. Shards of sandstone blasted down on the hapless foot soldiers of hell, impaling them on the stone floors of their dark homeland. Landing amidst the corpses of his foes, Dale challenged the surviving enemy hordes to charge his now vulnerable body, and they charged him thusly. As they began to close the distance Dale sat down for a well deserved rest, and produced an all American beer from an unknown space. He drank it quietly, content in the knowledge that he had won. As the enemy approached, the shards that had slain their fellow soldiers detonated, sending even more splinters of piercing sandstone rocketing in all directions. Dale, whose ranged and area affecting attacks left him most suited to crowd control, sipped his beer quietly having finished all the smallfry present.

"Well,「Pocketo Sando」took care of that." he muttered to no one in particular.

Dale was the most fit to take on crowds, and so he had gladly volunteered to free his friends of distractions. Some distance away Bill was fighting against a smaller group of foes. Their horns glistened with infernal runes, and the saliva on their breath was an rotted ichor. They towered over Bill, each standing somewhere over twelve feet in height, and unleashed burning hellfire as they flexed their metric tons of muscle. Ferocious minotaur-like demons assaulted Bill with fists filled with infernal hate. Bill met the blow with his own rippling bicep, whose indomitable muscle and stand that took the place of his skeleton absorbed the blow effortlessly. Bill threw the arm that blocked the blow to the side, throwing the opponent he had blocked off balance. Masterfully crafting an opening in his foe, Bill's fist shot forth like the future of America itself. His righteous fist colliding with the ribcage of the minotaur, Bill pushed even further still. Twisting his fist as he pushed, he ground the bones of the beast's ribs even as the force of the blow lifted it from the ground. Spiralling upwards with an impossible speed, the first beast was impaled upon a stalactite. His fellows fell upon Bill, who began to buckle under the weight of the pile they formed. With a roar unparalleled in intensity, almost as though a dragon raged within him, waves of force and heat sent all that surrounded him away. His skin was a raw red from the burning blood racing through his veins. Rushing towards the demons he had knocked away, Bill raised his fist to the air. As he reached his foes his fist crashed downwards, caving in the exposed skull of the monster. Lifting the dead beast by the foot Bill began wielding it as a new weapon. He slammed the body against its living counterparts with such force as to rend flesh and expose entrails. Bill was never one much for tactics, but he possessed ample strength, and this adventure had steeled his will even further.

Away from his three friends battles, Boomhauer was engaged in a completely different kind of struggle. Sweat glistened from his brow as he drove his chainsaw katana against the indestructible strings of his guitar, and sick riffs echoed throughout the caves. He stood atop a pillar of speckled marble which stood adjacent to a row of similar pillars. Upon these pillars stood several skeleton guitarists who had challenged Boomhauer. The strength of his shredding was enough to drive off the sound of the skeleton's playing, which resulted in a sound not dissimilar to the Doom soundtrack. The skeletons soon burst into flames from the stress of keeping up with Boomhauer's playing. His friends had completed their own battles beforehand, and so they were able to witness Boomhauer's skill.

"Well I'll be damned, I never knew you were one of them musician types."

"wellHankit'sjustoneofthosethingsyoupickupsometimeI'llbehonestit'snotlikeIreallyrememberwhyIlearnedoranything" Boomhauer said supiciously.

The ground beneath the Strickland Crusaders began to shake, and even broke some distance from them. From the cracks in the stone a great metallic figure emerged. A great edifice of metal and lightning, and atop it stood another figure. The metal monster roared the roar of an enraged animal, and Hank wondered why a machine would make such noises. Lights all along the external lining of its limbs and various points along the body began to shine a violent red light, which all present recognized as the universal sign of unnecessary aggression and an impending fight. The figure laughed in a thousand voices, and with the coming of the lights his face was illuminated.

"YOU?!"

The creature's face was a mass of twisted dark green-blue flesh, the left side covered in dozens of yellow focusless eyes. It continued its sordid laugh.

"Dale, what are you talking about?"

"I told you! I TOLD ALL OF YOU!"

"You mean…"

"YES! For years I told you! I told you, but no one listened! Don't you see!? All the money the Government wastes on vain and useless bullshit ends up in the land of the dead! All that funding, with the beneficial programs they could have instated, all dead! Where do you think the funding goes when it dies? They're using the resources to build a giant mech IN HELL!"

" _Yes Dale, we ARE. Gaze upon the finest product of Hell's engineering exploits. Witness the awakening of METAL GEAR SATAN!_ " The humanoid abomination atop the machine bellowed.

" _Bask in the flames of ANNIHILATION and DAMNATION! Watch as I tear your dreams from the skies above and set them alight. I will be your death, and you WILL cease to be._ "

A hatch near the figure standing atop the mech opened, and it quickly entered what must have been the machine's cockpit. Roaring with a mechanical hatred, the Metal Gear shook the ground with every step. Its sturdy legs came crashing down where the Strickland Crusaders stood, and it was all they could do to dodge. Bill struck its appendages with his colossal blows, but their construction was that of another world. The metal was comprised of impossible supernatural qualities, and Bills titanic strength was ineffective against the demonic hull. Even so he persisted, refusing to accept the futility of his strikes. The benefit this provided was unknown even to him, and the constant hammering of his fists was enough to draw the monster's attention away from his more fragile friends. Stone pillars and obelisks were demolished as it swung its mighty limbs in an attempt to eliminate Bill, whose strikes were interspersed with shots from Dale's stand, used with the aim of blinding the machine.

From a short distance away Hank was also destroying the scenery. He smashed countless pillars, only to pick up the shards and launch them fullforce at the device. It did not take long for Hank to realize the inefficiency of his friends strikes, but he also noticed another thing. The debris he threw was actually leaving scuffs along the hull of the mech. He set himself to think what this may have meant, and then remembered something said to him by his own son, Bobby, before he left for this wacky bizarre adventure.

"Hey dad, how's it goin'? Remember, only the edifices of Hell, Heaven, and that which lies beyond may hope to harm the constructs of Hell."

He then realized that only that born of hellfire could hope to harm its own kin, and that the answer to this troubling foe must be found here and now. Searching the landscape he found nothing but Boomhauer, frozen in place and refusing to fight. A mighty blow struck Dale, sending him towards Hank. Catching his friend, Hank absorbed the shock of his impact. Dale looked to his friend and smirked when he saw the look in his eyes, for he knew Hank had found some crucial detail pertaining to their foe's weakness. Hank gently set the injured Dale down, and turned to run towards Boomhauer. Reaching him he saw a look of fear and confusion of his face.

"Boomhauer! The hell you doing just standing around?!"

"NowyoulistenhereHankI'matellyouwhatsomepeoplejusthavetheirlimitsIcan'tIjustcan't."

"Boomhauer, I ain't never seen you like this! The hell is wrong with you?"

"HankthereissomethingIneedtotellyoubutIjustcan'tlistenHankyou'vegottohandlethisonejustthisoncedon'tmakemedoit"

"Boomhauer! Listen! You need to fight of Bill is going to die! Y-"

"I'mnotastanduserdammit."

"- H'what. H'what? H'WHAT?"

"IhavenotfoughtalongsideyouwillthepowerofastandbutratherwithpowerborrowedfrommylineagethereisadarkseretflowingthroughmyveinsHankHill."

"Boomhauer, I don't understand! The hell are you saying!?"

"IwasbornofthisplaceHanktheflamesofHellrunthroughmyveinsmyfatherwasademonwhofoughtforthesakeofhumanityandsealedoffhell!"

"Boomhauer, if that's the case then you're the only thing here that can save us!"

"DammitHankthereain'tnothingIcandoI'veneverpossessedpowerlikeyoualldoandifItakeadvantageofthepowerdwellingherethanIyouallwouldseemeforwhatIam. Amonster."

It was as Boomhauer said this, with tears in his eyes, that Bill came rocketing to the floor between them. Standing up once more, the blood-covered Bill looked to his two uninjured friends. Bill let his inner strength sell within himself once more, as he walked towards the roaring monstrosity for what he believed to be the final time.

"I understand that you all is scared, cause I am to. Listen, go find a way out o' here. You all got lives to live. I'll hold it back."

Boomhauer could not speak. Every word he could possibly have said choked in his throat. His best friend as walking off to die, and all because he feared what he would think of him if he saw what he truly was. As Bill began to stumble whilst walking, Boomhauer threw aside what he believed to be his own selfishness.

A metallic arm slammed down on Bill, who closed his eyes and awaited the end. When he opened them shortly after he saw a translucent and clawed arm holding it off. The arm struggled but remained in place, and Bill's eyes tracked the length of the rm to its origin. It came from Boomhauer, who steadfastly stood his position. The arm was a translucent projection that emanated from Boomhauer's actual arm, which had adopted the appearance of a claw of magma and flame. It seemed to operate on similar mechanics to stands, but it near perfectly mimicked his own movements. Throwing the strange arm to the side in the same manner Bill had used against the minotaurs, Boomhauer launched towards the mech, pushing it away from Bill.

"Nowit'smyturnyoudamnedroboticbastardhaveatasteofmyDevilTrigger!"

Exploding into flame, Boomhauer's laugh echoed through the cavern. The energies of Hell and all the slain demons empowered him further, turning his appearance to one of a golem of red magma and blue flame, whose flames were drawn behind him to form a second demonic figure. The machine roared with infernal intensity, surpassed only by Boomhauer's echoing laughter. The figure behind Boomhauer lost its defined shape, and all the flames that comprised it were drawn into Boomhauer's hand. Now rippling with an unhallowed aura, Boomhauer shot forth, and crashed his angsty devil fist against the torso of the Metal Gear. Metal twisted and melted from the heat of the collision, with Boomhauer channeling all his might into his fist.

"Thishando'mineburnswithanawesomepoweritsburninggriptellsmetodefeatyou!"

All present were in awe of great jet of flame that erupted from Boomhauer's hand, and the mech's twisting metal screeched with the terror of a caged ethiopian orphan. Exploding in a flash of power, the malicious mechanical monstrosity suffered a malfunction of existence. Boomhauer, drained of strength, fell to the ground below. Bill caught the falling warrior, and held him closely. Boomhauer awoke to find he had returned to his human form, his devilish power having been drained in his exertion. Bill looked to his friend with teary eyes and helped him to his feet.

"Now you listen, Boomhauer, cause I don't care if you're a devil, human, or a shitty mary-sue deviantart OC. All that matters is that the four of us are here for each other. Please, don't forget that."

Dale, having long since recovered, sauntered back towards the group. As soon as he was able to walk again he had decided to scout for an exit to this accursed place. He was informed of Boomhauer's exploits, and Dale shared the location of the escalator. All was well until Hank a great burning from his pants. A great burning that WASN'T from thinking of propane for once. Reaching into his infinite pockets, he grasped the Ivory skull he had looted from that underground chamber. The Ivory skull which seemed to possess a strange supernatural nature which defied Hank's guessing. He realized what this meant. His encounter in the false airport provided him all the knowledge he needed to make use of the artifact. As the forces of the supernatural grew near the skull burned, and now it blazed with the heat of a political rally.

Hank turned in time to see the monster that had been piloting the Metal Gear leap at Dale, who was defenseless in his surprise. As the beast's claw came a hair's breadth from Dale Boomhauer pushed him aside. The claw sunk into his flesh, and he winced with pain. Impaled on the monster's claw, darkness clouded Boomhauer's vision. It was only as he heard Bill cry out to him that his senses returned, and Boomhauer awoke strength he did not know he possessed. Golden light shone on all, and the flames of Hell subsided. The stones weathered to dust, and the monster was ripped apart atom by atom. When the light subsided Boomhauer knelt on the floor, shaken but unharmed. Hank remembered something else his son Bobby had told him.

"Hey dad, did you know the light of a valorous heart might banish the evils of one's inner darkness? That the shadows of blood and hellfire might be banished by the spirit of a true hero? Such is the true strength of man. The strength granted by Love. But take heed, Dad, for Love may prove an equally debilitating curse. Shackles, if you will. Take from that what you will"

"That boy ain't right." Hank muttered to himself.

The four embraced as they made their way to the escalator, so that they could continue their quest for justice.


End file.
